Upon arriving, it was unclear as to the exact parking location. I did see a couple RVs in one area, but wanted to be sure and thought I might end up meeting the hosts/owners of the property. About 1/8 to 1/4 of a mile further, I realized I would need to turn around, which is what I was doing (at roughly 4-7mph) when a man came traipsing across the field screaming. “HEY HEY HEY!!! What are you doing? Are I drunk. I have goats and animals “ which be did. Maine the goats in Washington are different, but the ones in Arkansas are smart enough to move when a small motor home is heading at them clipping a snails pace. Regardless, the man acted as though I were some sort of idiot for not recognizing the clearing between the bushes as “the site.” And maybe I should have. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. But knew thing I did not need was condescending belittlement from this gentlemen who clearly had had much stronger coffee than I could’ve ordered at Starbucks.
My suggestion: a little orange flag, a small sign,